A con-man, a nerd, and a secret agent walk into a market
by Thunderandshadowcats
Summary: "Seriously? You want us to track down two old geezers? What did they do, make a noise complaint? Or did they drive too slowly?" Tony asked incredulously. - In which Tony, Clint, and Steve are put together on a mission to collect Stanford and Stanley Pines because of possibly photoshopped photos of a corn chip with a bowtie.
1. Chapter 1

"Seriously? You want us to track down two old geezers? What did they do, make a noise complaint? Or did they drive too slowly?" Tony asked incredulously, looking at the pictures of the two old men Fury had asked them to bring in.

They were obviously brothers, both sharing the same large nose, squarish face, and big ears. One had and a blue and yellow raincoat; you could see a red turtleneck underneath, and the other had a mullet and wore a red beanie, a white shirt, and wore a long brown coat.

Tony slid the pictures and files across the table to Steve and Clint, sighing inwardly. Of course Fury had to put him on a mission with the two most annoying people on the team- Bird Brain and Captain Stick up his Ass.

"Stark, take this seriously. The one called Stanley has committed several crimes. Drug smuggling, tax evasion, theft..I could go on." Fury said with a glare at Tony.

"It says here that you tried to recruit them a few months ago?" Steve asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

"You're trying to force them into recruitment, aren't you? If you arrest them, they have no choice but to stay here. And if they're staying here, they might as well just join SHIELD to get out of prison." Tony said smugly, and Fury's scowl told him he had figured it out.

"Not only that Stark, but there were some mysterious "earthquakes" in Gravity Falls, Oregon. I had some agents there at the time and when they came back, they were very..twitchy. Scared. An earthquake doesn't do that to someone. I believe that the Pines have something to do with this." Fury admitted sourly, and placed another set of pictures on the table.

Tony examined them, feeling his eyes widen slightly. The sky was a dark shade, a large X drawn across. It looked like space was pouring from the X. A man in a trench coat and a child were seen looking up at it. The next picture was of a yellow, one-eyed, pyramid shaped triangle with a bow tie, arms, and legs. It looked like a corn chip.

There were various weird things in the other pictures such as a water tower with teeth, monsters, and a giant flaming lumberjack, but the one that alarmed Tony the most was one of the old man in the trench coat falling out of a floating pyramid, a glowing blue collar and chains fastened around his neck. It was obvious that he was trying to hang himself.

Steve gaped a little at the pictures, and Clint muttered, "What the hell is this?"

"No idea. That's why we're trying to find the Pines." Fury walked around the room as he spoke, and stopped near the door.

"You'll find them in New Jersey. They docked there yesterday." With that, Fury opened the door and swept out, black coat fluttering behind him.

Tony snorted from where he sat at the table, and said, "Who's ready to beat up some old men?"


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Warning- Crappy fight scene. Viewer discretion advised.**

"Hey, Pointdexter. Hate to alarm you, but I think we're being trailed." Stan said, walking through the outdoor market with his brother. Ford didn't say anything, tensing minutely before mouthing, "Who?"

"Um...two blond guys. One's tall and muscular and the other one is shorter and muscular." Stan made exaggerated motions as he spoke and Ford pretended to laugh.

They had both gone through the routine of being trailed before. If you acted like you knew someone was following you, it could get messy fast.

"Stanley, we need to get lost. Quickly. We need to go into a crowd and split up. We can meet back by the boat." Ford said quietly as Stan faked browsing at one of the stalls. They stalled long enough for the men to get moderately close, before Ford loudly spoke.

"Stan, you're taking too long. I'm on a tight schedule, you know. Let's meet up at the hotel when you're done."

Stan shrugged, and as Ford gave Stan one last _Don't do anything stupid look_ , he departed into the crowd; Stan saw the men share looks.

 _Time for me to disappear. Poindexter thinks he's always right. Sometimes stupid is better than subtle_ , Stan thought, and without withdrew a smoke bomb from his pocket. He threw it in the men's direction, and yelled as loudly as he could (which was very loudly), "There's a bomb!"

Immediately, the whole market descended into pandemonium. There was a bang as the smoke bomb went off and as people shoved, pushed, and screamed to get out of the market, Stan pushed his way through the crowd. The smoke could clear anytime, and he wasn't going to be there for when it did.

"Out of the way! Move it!" Stan barked, shoving people to the side as he went.

As he neared the market exit, saw the two men from earlier, following him with ease. They were strong enough to push through the crowd with no problem and Stan cursed his luck.

"Stan! You were supposed to be stealthy!" Stan jumped as Ford hissed his name and dragged him out of the crowd.

"I couldn't lose them." Stan said with a pant, slightly exerted from all that pushing and shoving. He ignored Ford's second comment because his brother was ungrateful (and right) sometimes. People kept running and as the market emptied out, Stan knew their chance of escape was getting slimmer.

Ford's eyes turned dark for a moment. "We may have to fight our way out of this Stanley. I still have my gun and you still have your brass knuckles." He hissed quietly, and not a moment after, the two blondes were upon them. They didn't attack, they just stood there.

"What do you want?" Stan finally asked tersely.

"Stanley and Stanford Pines? We need you to come with us." The shorter blond spoke, voice as steely as his grey eyes.

Stan growled, slipping on his brass knuckles. Both men tensed, and Ford did was well. The tension was thick enough that you could cut it with a knife. The taller blond looked a bit awkward as he said, "There's no point in fighting. Ju-"

That was all it took for Ford to pull out his gun, but it was easily knocked out of his hands by the shorter blond. That didn't deter Ford as he leapt at the blond and pinned him to the ground. He took a knife strapped to his leg, just barely slicing shorter blond in the stomach. The blond grunted and threw Ford off, right into Stan's legs.

The tall blond punched Stan in the ribs, and Stan swore he heard something crack. With a grunt of pain, he swung again, but was knocked to the ground as Ford was rolled into his legs by the shorter blond. "For fuck's sake, Ford. Watch it!" Stan barked, getting back on his feet almost immediately. Ford panted for a moment, knife lost, but gun in reach.

"Steve, watch out!" The shorter blond barked as Ford reached his gun and shot at the tall one, Steve. Steve barely dodged, and the shorter one began fighting Ford for the gun.

All in all, Ford and Stan were losing badly. The shorter blond had Ford in a chokehold, and Stan's ribs were screaming in pain. He made towards Ford, eyes narrowed. Steve didn't seem inclined on attack him again, rather talking into a communicator or something.

Ford clawed wildly at the shorter man's arms, snarling and snapping as he struggled to free himself before the lack of air made him pass out. He finally went limp, darkness edging his vision. If he pretended to be out, then he could escape when they had their guard down. The shorter man let go and Ford slumped to the ground, allowing himself to faceplant.

"Ford! I swear if you killed him, I'll kill you!" Stanley roared and threw himself at the shorter blond. "LEFT HOOK!" He yelled, his fist connecting with the other man's face. There was a slight tussle before a loud thump as Stan landed on the ground, breathing heavily. Stan looked over at Ford, and Ford gave his brother a subtle wink.

"Run." Ford mouthed, but Stan stayed stubbornly put, one hand on his rib, the other clenched in a fist.

Steve walked over, Ford could hear him quietly say, "Transport is coming. Search them for weapons?" Steve then walked a few feet away, muttering something into the communicator.

Ford's heart almost stopped. Ever since he came through the portal, he had never spent a day without his gun.

"Oi, don't touch me!" Stan snapped as the shorter blond approached him and began patting him down. He threw a fist at the blond, and guy easily dodged, grabbing his arm and twisting it. Stan yelped, and Ford had to stop himself from growling. _I'll make them regret touching my brother.._

The man let go of Stan's arm when he was finished searching (he had taken Stan's brass knuckles, ID, and shopping list) and moved onto Ford. Immediately, Ford kicked him hard in the balls and short blond fell to the ground with a groan.

Steve turned right at that moment, seeing shorter blond go down. He seemed very disgruntled as he went to his aid, and Ford grinned, feral and eyes crazy.

He snarled, teeth bared as he snapped at Steve, Steve seemed a bit taken aback, but he still fought. Stan could already tell he was going to win. "Go Stan. I'll be fine." He mouthed as Steve came at him.

Stan hesitated a moment before running off just in time to see Ford dodge a punch from Steve.

Sometimes Ford was right. This was one of those times. There was no escape if both of them got captured.


	3. Chapter 3

"You only got one of them? What happened to, _'oh no Tony, we don't need you. They're only two old men, I doubt they'll even fight us and if they do, it'll be easy.'_ Yet now I hear that Capsicle punched an elder and that Legolas got hit in the balls and is bleeding like a stuck pig- and wow, look at that cut on your jaw..that's gonna be a nasty bruise- and that now we lost one of them." Tony ranted, ignoring the old man glaring them down through the thick soundproof glass.

Clint snorted and rolled his eyes, "And you would have done better? You would have hit him with a repulsor blast and killed him."

Steve interrupted before they could start fighting. "It doesn't matter. I'm sure Fury won't mind. We got one twin, the one without a criminal record. We just arrest the other one and bring him here."

"I can't believe you're actually doing this. Are you aware that these are two senior citizens? I'm surprised you haven't tried to set them free yet." Tony snapped back, frustration now turned on Steve.

"Fury said they're dangerous and have information. Why should we let criminals run free just because they're older?" Steve hissed back, and then there was a thunk.

Tony, Steve, and Clint all turned around to see the old man banging his head on the glass pane window . He didn't seem to be showing any sign of stopping as he continued hitting the window even as the glass didn't even crack.

"Damn it. Steve go back there and do something to stop him. As entertaining as it would be to see Fury get pissed, we can't have him half brain damaged when we get back to SHIELD. Which twin is he?" Tony asked as he turned back around the face the front.

"That's Stanford. Stanley's the one without the cleft chin." Clint said, and at Tony's slightly incredulous look he said, "You don't do a mission without taking a very close look at your targets."

Steve sighed and got out of the car, "Clint, you're driving. I don't trust Tony not to speed." With that, he closed the front door and got into the back with Stanford.

Stanford stopped his banging for a moment, fixing Steve with a cold glare.

"Hello. I'm Steve Rogers." He said with the most sincere grin he could pull, and for a moment surprise lit up in Stanford's eyes. They returned to their coldness so quickly that Steve wasn't sure if he had imagined the surprise.

"Stanford Pines. But you already know that. I would love to shake your hand, but unfortunately you've handcuffed me." Stanford growled blandly, and Steve felt his smile drop.

"We just need to bring you in and ask you a few questions." Steve said with a sigh.

Stanford let out an icy laugh. "And then I'll never leave the building again. I don't think so, Rogers. You think that I don't see right through your lies?" He rolled his eyes and grinned. It was as cold as everything else the old man did. "There's not a thing in the world that could make me tell you what you want to know. I've been in scenarios like this before. The person who tried to hold me? He's dead now."

Steve sat in stunned silence at the direct threat. "Did he just admit to killing a man?" Tony asked, shock filling his voice as he spoke through the coms. Steve didn't respond, and Stanford went back to hitting his head on the window.

"Hey, stop that." Steve snapped, patience gone as he pulled the man away from the window.

Stanford snorted, "What, you want me to be of use? You're not getting anything from me so you should just let me."

"Cap, just sedate him." Clint spoke through the coms, and as he did so, a window opened in the glass; a needle came through the partition neatly presented on a tray.

"I've been working on a new sedation with Brucie. It essentially makes the target drunk as hell. It was pretty funny when we tried it on Bruce, but I'm pretty sure it'll work on this guy too." Tony cut in, and Clint snorted, thinking of Bruce stumbling around, completely hammered.

Stanford's eyes widened as he saw the needle, and Steve had a split second to pin him down in his distraction.

"Wait! Wait. I'll stop. Don't." Stanford choked out, and Clint muttered, "Don't listen to him. Just sedate him."

Steve looked down at the man beneath him. His eyes were wide and full of fear, hatred, and anger, while his whole body shook faintly. Then he saw the snarl edging up on Stanford's face. He grabbed the needle and carefully jabbed it into Stanford's neck.

Steve felt Stanford go limp beneath him and sighed. "What a piece of work. I wonder if his brother will be worse."

"My bruh'er Stanl'y is brave. 'E d'eat'd Bill." Stanford mumbled, eyes a bit crossed as he slumped down in his seat. It was such a whole change in demeanor that Steve couldn't help blinking.

"Wow, it is like he's drunk." Steve muttered.

"'M not dr'nk. I c'n c'nt my f'gers." Stanford slurred and began struggling to bring his handcuffed wrists in front of him. He grunted with effort before finally giving up. "'R not."

Steve stifled a laugh, but Tony was openly laughing over the mics.

"S 'kay. I kn'w I got siiiix f'gers." Stanford said cheerfully, but then frowned. "Imma fr'k."

The laughter stopped and Steve took a moment to look at Stanford's hands to see if his claims were true or if he was more drunk than they thought.

"Huh. He really does have six fingers. Is that on file?" He murmured.

"I guess not. Would that really be important?" Tony asked, and Clint shrugged.

"We're here, so we can tell Fury about it later, I suppose." The archer said, the car coming to a stop.

"Wh'eers Stanl'y?" Stanford slurred, looking around blearily as Clint opened the back door and helped him out.

"Yeah..he'll join you later. I'll get Fury. Go put him in the interrogation room, Steve. Tony, go try to do something helpful for once." Clint directed, and Tony rolled his eyes.

"See if me and Brucie ever make you arrows again." He muttered, walking away.

* * *

Stan narrowed his eyes as he watched Steve, shorter blond and brunette leave the car. His brother staggered along, looking like he was completely inebriated. He was stumbling and Stan wondered if they had drugged him or if he was badly hurt. The group split up, shorter blond and brunette going in different directions and Steve dragging Ford along. Ford looked back for a moment, eyes meeting with Stan's. His eyes were glassy and slightly crossed, but as he looked at Stan, faint recognition showed. He muttered something before he was finally dragged inside.

For kidnappers, they were surprisingly unsubtle and easy to track. Whether Stan owed them money from years past or these douches wanted Ford for something, Stan couldn't figure out. Either way, they were going to pay for messing with a Pines.

He began walking around the building, looking for any secret back doors he could use. For once, he wouldn't be the screw-up.


	4. Chapter 4

"What the hell did you do to him?" Fury asked, eyebrow raised as he started at the older man sitting in the interrogation room. Stanford was muttering to himself, looking around like he was trying to figure out where he was.

"Well, he was trying to give himself a concussion. We sedated him. For his own safety, director." Clint replied, and Fury sighed.

"Just get on with it, Michaels. We'll be back when you've gotten him to answer." Fury turned his unimpressed gaze to a younger agent who whipped to attention at the sound of his name.

"Okay, Director Fury. I won't let you down!" Michaels said seriously, grabbing his file and rushing into the room.

"For your own sake I hope you don't." Fury replied with a snort, and walked the other way with a dramatic turn.

"Alright, Cap. I brought cards so we can play in the surveillance room." Clint said, and followed up with, "Poker or blackjack?"

* * *

Ford stared at the pictures on the table in front of him. His mind was screaming at him "No, bad, get away!" But he couldn't get away. He was trapped to the chair.

"Explain this." The man said, taking a picture of Bill and shoving it right in Ford's face. Ford flinched away, a small whine building in his throat as he looked everywhere other than the picture.

"No? How about this?" The man asked, sounding mad. He picked up a picture of the Fearamid, and Ford froze. He didn't like this at all. He didn't want to think about this. He didn't like this man.

"No. Go 'way." Ford muttered, and now the man looked completely pissed.

"Look here, you six-fingered freak. You are never, ever going to leave here. You're never going to see Stanley again. Unless you answer my questions, I'll make your life here hell." The man snarled, and Ford gave a weak growl back. His mind just wasn't where it was supposed to be.

"Dick." Ford mumbled, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

The man threw the pictures off the table in frustration and began slapping and punching Ford. "You fucking retard! Simple fucking questions!" He yelled, and Ford couldn't even bring his hands up to block the blows as they were handcuffed.

"'M sorry." Ford whimpered, over and over until the man finally stopped.

"Alright, let's try that again." The man picked up the picture of Bill once more.

"Explain." Ford stared at the table, before quietly saying, "Bill. He's sa d'mon."

His face hurt and his stomach hurt and his head was so fuzzy. His hands were starting to lose feeling.

"A demon? Tell me more."

"He c'n t'ke over people. Craaafty. Sm'rt. Hee's ded now." Ford broke off, mumbling something about mindscapes.

"Pay attention. Next picture. Who's he?"

Ford barely glanced at the photo before deciding he wanted out. "St'p it! I dn't wanna see dis anymore." He slurred, tugging at the restrains on his wrists. It was like Bill all over again. He could feel the voltage. The electricity ran through him. He screamed until his throat was raw.

"No, no...lemme go! No m're!" Ford screamed, half delusional. He could feel the collar around his neck. The cuffs tight around his wrists and ankles. Blue lightning. Pain.

The guy was slapping him angrily and Ford flinched away just as more people burst in. Suddenly, his wrists were released and Ford sprang out of the chair, taking a few stumbling steps towards the door. He was pinned were trying to kill him and he couldn't even fight back. Ford screamed until his throat was raw and then he screamed some more. They barked orders, yelling, "Stark, come fix this!"

They were probably trying to fix his hands. His freak, mutant hands. "'M f'ne. My h'ds are f'ne!" He screeched, all of it like a huge, horrible nightmare. Finally he just passed out, world spinning as it went black.

* * *

"Should he be doing that?" Steve asked, looking up from his cards to the monitor. Clint barely glanced up, then frowned.

"Turn up the volume." He said, and as Steve did he heard Stanford screaming at the top of his lungs. It was a scream full of pain and desperation as Michaels growled and began slapping the older man.

"What the fuck." Clint got to his feet, leaving his cards on the table as he made his way back to the room, with Steve following.

He quickly opened the door, using the button by the door to unlock Stanford's cuffs. The man's face was red and swollen and he had a black eye. Stanford stumbled out of the chair, taking a few steps towards the door before Michaels tackled him.

"This is my interrogation! I'll do it as I see fit." Michaels spat at Clint, and Clint narrowed his eyes.

"He's obviously sick, Michaels. As your superior, I'm telling you to take a break." Clint growled back.

"Whatever. I'm telling Fury, though. He's not going to be mad at me for your stupidity." Michaels said, and left the room.

Steve rushed over to where Stanford was still laying and placed a hand on his forehead. "Did Stark say anything about side effects with the drugs? I think he's hallucinating."

"Fucking hell." Clint snarled, pulling out his phone and trying to ignore Stanford's screams. "Stark, come fix this!"

Stanford screeched something that was so slurred and jumbled that Clint couldn't even understand it.

"What is that awful noise?" Tony asked, and Clint growled out,

"Stanford. Your drug has some unfortunate side effects."

"It-"

Clint cut Tony off saying, "Just because it worked on Banner doesn't mean it'll work on everyone. Bruce has a different metabolism and immune system than most humans."

There was a brief silence and Clint looked over his shoulder. Stanford had passed out.

"Alright, I'm coming. Well, Bruce and I. We'll be there soon."


	5. Chapter 5

Stan quietly crept through the hallways of the building. It had been simple enough to knock out some angry man leaving the building and steal his card. (Card read John Michaels and for some reason, it felt oddly good to knock him out.) He couldn't help but wonder how Ford was holding up. _Probably boring them to death with science,_ Stan thought. It had been around 1 pm when Ford had been taken and now it was around 5. Stan had spent four hours making an elaborate plan to get in, rescue his brother, and get out. The only problem was that he didn't even know where his brother was being held.

He held his breath, ducking into a closet as he heard a lone set footsteps heading down the hallway.

He peeked out, seeing a scrawny, curly haired man with glasses, looking down at a tablet. His whole appearance screamed _nerd_.

The man walked past the closet, and Stan slipped out, quickly treading behind him, keeping his footsteps quiet as he drew his knife. Then, he swiftly threw an arm around the man's neck, and dragged the man back to the closet before anyone could see.

The man looked at Stan in confusion, but his eyes widened as he saw the gleam of the knife in the dimness of the closet.

"You really don't want to-" The man began calmly, and Stan raised an eyebrow, cutting him off.

"I don't want to, but I will if you don't take me to my brother." Stan growled quietly, bringing the knife up to the other man's throat, and letting it rest there for a moment. He felt the man gulp lightly.

"You have five seconds to make up your mind." Stan warned, "Five, four.."

"Your brother is down the hall, left and three doors down.." The man said in a rush, and Stan snorted, but removed the knife from his throat.

"Like I'm going to believe you. You're going to lead me there. What's your name?"

"Bruce."

"Awesome. Lead the way, Brucie." Stan said, opening the closet door, but still making sure to occasionally put a little bit of pressure on the knife to keep Bruce hurrying along.

"Don't call me that." Bruce muttered, leading Stan down the hall.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. At least I'm not calling you dead body." Stan let out a chuckle at the own joke, and Bruce snorted.

"You couldn't kill me anyway." He replied, taking a left and entering a password into a keypad.

The password was _T51st4eb35t_ , and Bruce quietly laughed as he typed it in, Stan wondering what significance it had to the curly-haired man.

The room they entered had eight cells in it, and Bruce led him to the third one. "Like I said." Bruce muttered.

"Ford. Ford!" Stan rattled the bars, but Ford didn't stir from where he was laying on a cot. Stan turned on Bruce angrily.

"What did you to do him?" He snarled, and Bruce backed up.

"I'm just the doctor. He was out cold when I saw him." Bruce defended warily, and that was when the door opened.

Three agents burst in, each aiming their guns at Stan.

"Stanley Pines, you're under arrest for breaking and entering. Step away from Doctor Banner and put your hands up!" The one at the front barked right before Stan threw his knife at her. It embedded in her shoulder, and she dropped her gun with a surprised shout.

"You wanna come with me, Banner?" Stan asked, grabbing the doctor by the back of his shirt and using him as a shield. The two remaining agents shared bewildered looks as if unsure what to do.

"Not particularly, but something tells me I don't have much of a choice." Bruce said dryly, watching the two other agents back off.

"Doctor Banner, please remain calm! Reinforcements are on the way!" One of them yelled without moving, and Stan snorted, still dragging Bruce along.

"You know, you're pretty calm for a guy who's in a potential hostage situation." Stan noted, peeking down a hallway before running down it, half expecting to be caught any moment.

"I kind of have to be." Bruce replied,

"Oo, cryptic? Will I ever figure out what that means?"

"I hope you don't have to. We're going the wrong way for exits, by the way."

"I- wait, what? Fuck!" Stan skidded to a stop in the middle of the hallway. Of course his memory had decided to wait until now to fuck him over.

"Old man, let Banner go." Stan looked up at a robotic voice. A large red and gold robot thing stood at the end of the hallway, and Stanley couldn't help thinking, _that would make a wonderful attraction in the Mystery Shack. The Titanbot. I should ask McGucket to make me one._

"Old man? Who're you calling old, tin man?"

"Tin man? Hey, Bruce that must make you the cowardly lion."

Bruce rolled his eyes.

"Really though. Sorry, not sorry. Don't touch my bro again." Tin man said, and Stan felt a sharp prick in his shoulder. He released Bruce, stumbling back a little as his shoulder burned a bit, and desperately grabbed at his shoulder. He came back, a dart in between his fingers. _They need both of us, or would prefer for both of us to be alive,_ Stan realized as he sluggishly pulled out the dart, and attempted to stand. His legs collapsed beneath him and he thought, _and I just made it easier for them._

"Aw, fuck." Stan mumbled, falling forwards into an ungainly heap on the ground. Darkness edged at his vision, and he felt himself get dragged backwards. He uselessly clawed at the ground.

"Cowardly lion, really Tony?"

Was the last thing Stan heard before he blacked out.

* * *

Stan woke up with a loud groan, feeling extremely hungover. "Yo, Ford what the hell happened last night? How many bars did we hit?" He asked, turning over to grab his glasses from his bedside table. Rather, he fell onto the floor, which woke him up completely. He got up, sitting back on his bed as his head began to pound.

"Last night? We hit absolutely none bars. Unless you count prison bars. I don't know..you broke into what I guess, would be some sort of government base in an attempt to rescue me. Now we're both caught." Ford spat, back turned from his brother as he sat on his own bed.

"...Wow. Not even a thank you for trying to save your sorry ass?" Stan asked, half bitter for being caught and half bitter for his brother being such an ass.

Ford sighed deeply, "I apologize, Stanley. I'm just a bit frustrated. Why would you come? I told you I'd be fine."

"Ford, I'll always come if you need me. I waited thirty plus years. Do you think I'm just going to let some government jerks get between us?"

There was a strained silence before Ford finally answered, "No." Stan grinned, and barked, "Why don't you come give your brother a hug then? I don't-can't really get up. I'm pretty sure I'm hungover." He was testing Ford.

Ford began making a sound of protest, but quickly choked it down. "Stanley, there are video cameras in here."

"So?"

"And they could use it against us." Ford finished lamely, and there was another silence.

"What did they do to you?" Stan asked angrily. Ford winced slightly.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Stanley." Ford said back quietly, and Stan scoffed.

"You haven't turned to see me once. Either they beat you up really badly and you don't want me to see or I've gotten even uglier over the last night."

Ford snorted, but muttered, "Stan, I don't want you picking fights with them. Don't fight with them. You'll lose." He turned around, facing Stan and Stan almost lost his words.

"It-s not that bad." He coughed out, feeling the rage stir in his gut. His nails dug into his palm as he struggled to keep his rage in check. Ford's face was covered in bruises and tiny cuts, one eye so swollen he could barely open it.

"Heh, don't lie to me Stanley. I know it's bad. Not the worst either of us have had, though." Ford sighed, turning back around. "They drugged me on the way to this place. It made me feel completely intoxicated. My interrogator got pretty aggressive when I wouldn't answer his questions. He began resorting to more violent measures to get answers, but I was apparently not drugged enough for my mind to panic at the sight of Bill. I started having flashbacks of when.." Ford cut off, opening and then closing his mouth a few times, "...he just got angrier when I started screaming until I lost consciousness. They let me out, forced some medicine down my throat, and threw me in here. Not even five hours later, you get thrown in here."

"What do they want?" Stan asked, attempting to force down his anger with another topic.

"They're interested about the summer." Ford replied easily enough, but his eyes said, _'Don't tell them shit.'_


	6. Chapter 6

**I will never understand why so many people like this shitty, cracky, lame story.**

* * *

"Do you prefer Stanley or Stan?"

Stan looked up with a snort, prepared to say a snarky comment, but felt his voice die in his throat. His interrogator was a red-head. She wore a leather cat-suit, and damn…

"Either one for you, babe." Stan said with a wink,

"So, tell me about yourself, Stan." The red-head said, sitting down in the seat across from Stan's.

"Well, I was born in Jersey. My mom was a pathological liar and my dad was a dick. I got kicked out of my house before I finished high school and went to make a fortune. I retired last year after the earthquake in Gravity Falls and went sailing with my brother." Stan said confidently, proud of himself for remembering the earthquake part.

"Really? My records here say...you've been dead." The red-head said and gave Stan a disappointed look.

"Uh..misprint." Stan said easily.

"So..tell me about the earthquake." She asked, and Stan shrugged as best as he could with his hands cuffed behind him.

"Well, it was big and did some damage." He replied, but felt himself blanch as the lady put some pictures on the table.

"What are these?" She asked, and Stan felt a drop of sweat fall onto the table.

"God, it's hot in here, isn't it?" He chuckled, and pretended to study the pictures. Sweet Moses, was that a picture of Ford...Mabel's bubble...no! He showed no outward emotion other than confusion, but inside he was fuming. I'd kill that damn triangle if he wasn't already dead. "I don't know what these are. Photocropped or shipped or whatever? Probably by those crazy people on the interwebs."

"Interesting." A perfect, arched eyebrow. "Your brother took a shining to this one in particular." She held up a picture of Bill in all his triangular glory, and Stan gritted his teeth.

"You drugged him. He was hallucinating. He's a paranormal investigator, and sometimes he's pretty stupid. He thinks he sees thinks when he doesn't. He's been pretty paranoid ever since-" Stan caught himself just in time, but realized that if he didn't finish the sentence it would look suspicious.

"Ever since, he..uh..was in the war. Vietnam. " Stan finished lamely. "He- uh..doesn't like me telling people. He was-er..a POW."

"And you didn't go to war?" She asked, and Stan nodded.

"That's why I pretended to be dead." He said, and realized his slip-up a moment too late.

"I thought you said that was a misprint?"

"Oh, did I? Bad memory." Stan was full out sweating now, drops running down his face. "Very hot in here."

"Is it? It's 68 degrees." The red-haired lady smirked, and Stan sighed.

"Whatever. You know how it is with old people. Hot flashes and what not." Stan muttered, looking at the picture of Bill again. Asshole. This damn thing is all your fault you fucking space nacho.

A buzzer sounded, and Stan looked up, relieved. "Well, that's all the time we have for today." The lady said, getting up, and Stan was sent back to his and Ford's cell.

Ford was doing pushups, but stopped once Stan was shoved in, glaring at the guard. "How was it?" He asked, getting up and sitting on his cot.

"Well..I told them that you're paranoid because you were a POW of Vietnam." Stanley said, and Ford stared at him.

"What in Heaven's name, Stanley? Why would you say that?" He exclaimed, and Stan sighed.

"There was a hot lady. She caught me off guard, you know? I was expecting one of those gross, masculine grunts. And technically, you have fought in a war. You were a prisoner of war."

"Shut up, Stanley." Ford hissed, giving Stan a venomous glare.

"I may have also told them that you were paranoid and a bit crazy." Stan continued, ignoring his brother.

"Stanley!"

"I mean, you were a bit paranoid...still kinda are. I noticed that you patrolled the shack everyday. Not as subtle as you think, Poindexter."

Ford let out a long sigh and began tuning out his brother.

* * *

"I'll have them clear you of all and any charges you've committed. That includes your long list from various fake, illegal IDs, fraud, theft...any of the other multiple crimes on your record. Assault...impersonation, faking your own death. Reckless driving, forgery, breaking and entering. We've barely even really gotten into it."

"Look here, Mr. Pirate," Stan said, ignoring the annoyed look from the other man, "I already explained that the death thing was just a misprint."

"And the rest of it? This could very well land you in a jail cell for a long, long, time, Mr. Pines."

"So what, you want me to tell you what happened? It was just an earthquake." Stan grinned, and Fury gave him a death glare.

"And let's not forget your brother. Illegal possession of a firearm, resisting arrest, assault, aiding a criminal."

Stan snorted. "I can't speak for my brother, but I'm pretty sure he'd tell you to fuck off. Except he'd probably say it nerdily. Is there even a way to say fuck off nerdily?"

"Consider our offer, Stanley. It's a very nice deal compared to the years you could spend rotting in a jail cell." Fury said, and got up, turning with a dramatic coat swish.

"Jeez, that guy's more dramatic than Ford is, am I right?" The annoying agent grunts didn't respond, rather taking Stan back to the cell.

Ford was sprawled out in the middle of the floor, looking a bit groggy as he looked around blearily. Both of his wrists were bandaged and Stan sighed. "You're drugged again. What did you do?"

Ford giggled, eyes crossing. "I brooooke the handcuffs and beat 'im up. I alsoooo bit the guaard. 'N scraaatched an'ther guaaard ooooon tha faceee." He drawled, and Stan cringed. It was always startling to hear his usually eloquent brother speaking so slurred.

"It's funny that you always fight with the guards when you always tell me not to make them mad." Stan huffed, helping his twin to his feet. "You have to stop doing this, Ford."

"Beeeetter meeee th'n youu"

Stan shook his head. "You're not supposed to be self-sacrificing, Sixer. It's out of character."

"Soooorry."

"You're not supposed to apologize either."

"Oh." With that, Stan dumped his brother in his cot and got into his own cot.

"Night Ford." Stan said, turning towards the wall.

Ford just grunted in response.


	7. Chapter 7

Hey everyone.

Okay, so a lot of you have been leaving comments/liking/favoriting and whatnot.

This is fine, but I'm no longer on this website, so this story won't be finished on here.

If you want to read the complete story, look up

 **A con-man, a nerd, Captain America, and a secret agent walk into a market**

by RedPineTree on AO3/archiveofourown

Right there.

Thanks

Thunder


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